


Poem

by QueenofStarlight



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-13 09:13:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11756667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenofStarlight/pseuds/QueenofStarlight
Summary: Keith writes Lance a poem.





	Poem

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ciitadel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ciitadel/gifts).



> This is a birthday gift for my lovely friend ciitadel!! Happy Birthday Reese!! 
> 
> I honestly have no idea how I've managed to write this much fluff. Y'all know how every other fic I've written is angst. But I was determined to write my friend some fluff, and I succeeded!! I hope you love your fic :3

Lance taps the fingers of his free hand on the book held in the other, leaning his head on Keith’s shoulder to not-so-subtly peek at the notebook in the boy’s lap. Keith notices, and nudges Lance off with an elbow to the gut. Lance grunts loudly and makes a show of falling back onto the couch, dropping his copy of Breaking Dawn to clutch at his gut with both hands dramatically.

Keith snorts a laugh. “You’re such a drama Queen. And stop trying to spy on my writing.”

“But Keeeeiiiiiith! You’ve been writing all day!” 

“It’s literally been half an hour.” 

“And that’s half an hour long enough! What’re you writing anyways?” 

Lance doesn't miss how Keith moves both hands over the page, concealing whatever is written on it, nor does he miss the nearly imperceptible color that appears on Keith’s cheeks. _How suspicious._ He thinks, smiling to himself. It’s surprisingly often that Lance gets to see Keith blush, though he still treats every time he does as if it’s a tragically rare occurrence. 

“Keithy-boy,” He starts, poking at Keith’s thigh with his foot. “Show me?”

Keith glances over at Lance and shakes his head. “Not yet. It isn’t finished.”

“Tell me what it is then?”

“It’s an assignment for class. We’re supposed to write a poem from a prompt.” 

“Poem? Cool. What’s the prompt?”

“Everything And More.” Keith says, pausing. Lance’s eyes follow Keith’s fingers, twirling his pencil effortlessly between his fingers the way one would a quarter. Keith writes down a word, then frowns and scribbles it out, bringing the pencil up to nibble on the eraser. Lance continues to poke at Keith’s thigh with his toes, moving higher up until Keith grows more red, the pencil falling into his lap. 

“Lance!” He says accusingly, pushing Lance’s foot off and searching through the cushions for his missing pencil. Lance just laughs, grabbing the notebook while Keith is distracted and laying his legs in its place, pouting when Keith takes the notebook back before he can read anything.

“Just be patient and wait ‘till I’m done. Then you can read it to your heart’s content.” Keith says, brows knitted together in concentration as he once again leans over his notebook, drumming his fingers on the page thoughtfully before continuing to write.

Lance doesn’t pry any further, bending over to pick his book up off the floor and frowning when he realizes he’s lost his place. He flips through the pages to find where he left off, but when he does, he can’t focus on the words at all, and rereads the page three times before finally giving up. He’s too curious. He can’t help it! _It’s only because Keith’s being so stubborn about his poem._ Lance tells himself, blaming it on his boyfriend instead of his own nosy personality.

“Keeeeiiiiiith!” Lance sets his book on the coffee table, careful not to move his legs and mess up Keith’s writing. Not that it’s ever super legible anyways. 

“What?” 

“Are you finished yet?”

“Jesus Lance, it’s literally been three minutes!” 

“I’m impatient! And now I can’t concentrate on my book because I’m curious about your poem.” 

“That’s not my problem.” 

“Rude, Keith!”

“Why are you so curious about my poem anyway?” Keith asks, finally looking up from the page.

Lance grins. “Because your poems are always quality content, that’s why.”

Keith’s face reddens at that and Lance grins wider, sitting up to wrap his arms tight around Keith’s shoulders. _He’s too cute!_ He thinks, laughing inwardly at how easy it is to get Lance riled up simply from Keith’s blushing or stuttering or awkward little ticks he probably doesn’t even notice he has. Too many people see Keith as brooding and antisocial, but Lance knows it’s really just that Keith hasn’t been around people enough to understand social norms. 

Lance buries his face in the crook of Keith’s neck and listens to the sound of pencil on paper, the sound of Keith’s frustrated huffs and thoughtful hums. More time passes, and then the sounds stop, Keith’s slow, gentle breathing the only thing breaking the sudden silence in the room.

“It’s finished.” He says, tossing his pencil off in some random direction and leaning his head on Lance’s. “You can read it now, if you still want to.” 

“Hell yeah I still want to!” 

Keith reels back from the words too loud in his ear, and Lance swiftly apologizes, entwining his fingers with Keith’s and taking the notebook, shifting around until it sits stable enough in his hand for him to read the poem. He giggles under his breath at Keith’s barely-legible handwriting. Some of the words are scribbled out or half-erased and then crossed out, as if he was going to erase them but decided to just cross them out instead part of the way through. 

Lance can feel Keith’s eyes boring into the side of his skull as he reads the poem, his grin fading into a concentrated stare. He gets to the bottom of the page, blinks a few times, and starts again.

Keith’s socked foot is tapping on the carpeted floor at a rapid pace and he can’t seem to sit still, fingers rubbing over Lance’s knuckles and palms sweating more than usual. Lance doesn’t notice for once, too absorbed in his reading. A good five minutes passes in silence and then the notebook is being grabbed out of Lance’s hands again just as he’s about to read it a fourth time.

“I’m gonna rewrite it.” Keith says hurriedly, poised to rip the page out. 

“No!” Lance rips the notebook from Keith’s grip and puts it on the coffee table. “Why would you rewrite it? It’s beautiful, Keith, more beautiful than any of your other poems!” 

“You’re just saying that because it’s about you.” 

Lance sucks in a breath, his face heating up of its accord. “You wrote a poem about me?”

Keith’s face turns beet red and Lance can’t help but snuggle up closer to his boyfriend. _How can someone be so awkward and cute at the same time?!_ Keith’s hair brushes up against Lance’s forehead and he runs a hand through it, soft as silk and a little bit tangled from going too long without being properly brushed.

“I didn’t even know it was about me until you said so. I kind of wondered, though.” He says. 

“Yeah…” Keith replies, leaning into Lance’s touch. “The assignment is overdue because I couldn’t think of any good content to put to the prompt, so my professor suggested I write about someone or something that means a lot to me.”

“And you chose me.”

“Of course I chose you! There’s nothing that means more to me.” 

Lance lets out a happy squeal and cups Keith’s face with both hands, pulling their lips together. The kiss is soft and sweet and Lance can feel Keith’s hair on his skin, his fluttering eyelashes, his nose bumping against Lance’s own. Warm air circulates between them when they part, and Lance shifts so he’s sitting more in Keith’s lap, picking the notebook up to read the poem again.

“I can’t believe you wrote a poem about me. How come you never wrote one about me before?” He asks, silently appalled that his poet boyfriend hasn’t written him a poem in the years they’ve been together.

“I have, I just never told you because your ego is too big.” Keith says with a smirk.

“That’s mean, Keith.” Lance makes a show of frowning, and Keith laughs. “But you love my ego anyways, don’t you?” Lance asks.

“I love _you_ , not your ego.” 

Lance smiles. “I love you too.”

 

 

_He is the universe,_  
_An incomprehensible expanse of possibility,_  
_Infinite and unstoppable,_  
_And more beautiful than any single star._

_He is the ocean,_  
_Impossibly calm yet impossibly strong,_  
_A quiet hum that can turn to a roar,_  
_Holding me afloat yet swallowing me up._

_He is a lazy morning,_  
_Yellow sunlight peeking through velvet curtains,_  
_Hair like silk tickling my cheeks,_  
_Gentle touches and flushed skin._

_He is laughter, light and harmonic, like a bird’s song._  
_He is peace, comfortable silences and warm cuddles._

_He is love,_  
_Soft kisses and sweet nothings whispered into the dark._

_He is everything, and more._


End file.
